A Great Actress
by madelinear
Summary: Haha, don't be fooled by the title. Read, review, and be merry.


A Great Actress  
By: Sugar Princess  
  


  
Disclaimer: No one belongs to me. They belong to that creative little monster Baz.  
Dedication: This fic goes to the frog that was brutally murdered by the Duke and is now in Frog Heaven.   
Author's note: Hooray! It's NOT a songfic. Well, not really. *grin* Had to have a little music in there somewhere, didn't I?  
I'm going away on a mini-vacation, which means a whole 20-some hours sans computer. Wish me luck.  
Author's note 2: I got the MR book! *squeals* The book ROCKS!  
Anyway, have fun.  
  
  
  
  
Christian felt as though he were talking to a stranger. Surely this cold, haughty woman was not Satine. She looked like Satine, to be sure, but she wasn't.  
  
_What was all this nonsense about staying with the Duke? No one would stay with the duke! And all for good reason: the man is horrid! And now, after that horrible display last night he offers Satine a job and she forgives and forgets?_  
  
But Satine wasn't taking that cold look off her face, or that icy tone in her voice that sent shivers down Christian's spine.  
  
"There's something the matter," he started. He crossed the room to Satine, taking her wrists. "Tell me what it is. Tell me the truth. Tell me the truth, tell me the truth!"  
  
Satine had escaped from his grip and now stood in front of him with frigid hostility.  
  
"The truth?" she spat viciously. "The truth is: I am the Hindu courtesan. And I choose the Maharaja. That's how the story really ends." She turned and left.  
  
Christian stood for a moment, stupefied. No, this was wrong. This was not the way the story ended. Where was the happy ever after? Where was the honeymoon, the children, the grandchildren, the white picket fence and the slobbering dog?  
  
As if on cue to help Christian with the transition from his deliriously happy life to his disturbingly depressing one, thunder rumbled, and rain started to pour.  
  
Which was good. If it had been sunny and the flowers had been singing and the animals dancing, then he most likely would have just shot himself right then in there out of pure irony.  
  
But since it wasn't, Mother Nature had decided to reflect his mood.  
  
Christian stood there for what could have been a few minutes or a few seconds when it finally sank in.  
  
_She left me.  
  
_Satine, who he loved so much, who was his inspiration, his soul, his reason for living, had left him to become an actress.  
  
"No," Christian said drunkenly, unable to stop the flow. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no..."  
  
He stumbled out his door and ran down his stairs in a hysterical fervor. This wasn't real, and Christian could prove it.  
  
The rain hit him like tiny needles, they were harsh and cold, just like she had been. But it mattered not to Christian, who was on a mission as he stood outside the entrance to the Moulin Rouge.  
  
"SATINE!" he screamed. "SATINE!"  
  
Two men came out him, but Christian tried one final time. "Satine!" he said desperately, before a fist slammed into his jaw and he was thrown into the mud.  
  
It was no use. They couldn't hurt him anymore. Satine was gone. What was the point of life now.  
  
He didn't remember his friends coming to get him, or lying him on his bed in his little garret.   
  
"Things aren't always as they seem." Toulouse lisped, trying to be helpful.  
  
Christian didn't want to feel better. He wanted to just sit there, preferably without Toulouse's inanely optimistic views. "Things are exactly the way they seem." He growled.  
  
"Christian," began Toulouse reluctantly, "You may see me only as a drunken, vice ridden gnome whose friends are just pimps and girls from the brothels. But I know about art and love, if only because I long for it with every fiber of my being. She loves, I know she loves you."  
  
Christian didn't even look his way. She didn't love him. His saying that just made it worse.  
  
"Go away, Toulouse. Leave me alone. Go away." When Toulouse made no move to leave, Christian turned. "GO AWAY!"  
  
He tried to ignore the hurt look on Toulouse's face as he left, but it didn't really bother Christian.  
  
Nothing did.   
  
But now a small seed of doubt had been planted in Christian's mind. And no matter how many times he tried to strangle it, it would not die.  
  
She was a courtesan, right? A whore, right?  
  
He had never paid her for her favors.  
  
In Christian's disturbed, twisted little mind, he could warp the pieces of the puzzle to fit.  
  
_If I pay her,_ he thought, _I'll be like everyone else. And no one else ever has to see her again. Neither will I._  
  
It made sense to him. It would give him closure. Allow him to move on, away from that harlot who had so brutally broken his heart.  
  
And that was why and hour later his typewriter was sitting in the window of Maison Gavan, the pawn shop. He was going to find Satine and pay her. Tell her what a good job she did, and what a splendid actress she was. Satine loved to be praised.  
  
But when he found her, his cool, collected thoughts for revenge left him, and all that was left was hate. He hated her for leaving him, and his voice said so.  
  
Christian the peaceful poet was gone, and in his place a man he had never been before. A man whose heart had been shattered and was now facing the careless wench who done so. Revenge tasted sweet. He even took a sick pleasure in seeing the fear in her eyes.  
  
He conscience was not so kind. _You're scaring her! Just leave!_  
  
"Just leave." Satine said, echoing his thought with frightening timing. She seemed awfully preoccupied, which Christian thought was quite unfair. She couldn't even give him her full attention when he was chasing her behind the curtain? That wasn't right. He violently grabbed her shoulders, she gave a little gasp.  
  
"Let me pay!" Christian said maniacally. "Let me pay! Tell me it wasn't real! Tell me you don't love me!"  
  
Satine was fighting against him, and Christian could dimly hear Zidler.  
  
"Tell me you don't love me!" he insisted, pushing her to her knees. Satine was in tears, shaking her head. "Tell me you don't love me!"  
  
The doors opened, and lo and behold, they were on stage.  
  
For a moment Satine clung to him. He almost reached out to draw him to her, but at the last moment yanked her to her feet before viciously throwing her down.  
  
He looked straight at the Duke, his gaze unflinching. "This woman is yours now."  
  
He drew out his wad of francs and threw it at her. Satine batted it away. "I paid my whore!"  
  
_Satine really was a good actress_, Christian thought somewhere in the dim corners of his mind. _She really looks upset. Maybe she- no. No. _Christian refused to let him pity her. Anger replaced his compassion._  
_  
"I owe you nothing." He spat. "And you are nothing to me." He couldn't keep the emotion out of his voice. "Thank you for curing me of my ridiculous obsession with love."  
  
Satine looked up at him with pleading eyes. Christian refused to meet them and started down the stage.  
  
Zidler remembered his lines. "This sitar player doesn't love you. See he flees the kingdom." Christian didn't really care. He shrugged off the ridiculous coat, pretending he didn't hear Satine's sniffles echoing in his head.   
  
"And now my bride it is time to raise your voice to the heavens and say your wedding vows!"  
  
Christian kept walking.   
  
"THE GREATEST THING YOU'LL EVER LEARN IS JUST TO LOVE AND BE LOVE LOVED IN RETURN!"  
  
And there it was. His line. The one he had drummed into Toulouse so many times he had lost count. And now he finally learned it only to use it against him.  
  
There was a distinct pause.  
  
And then he heard it. That voice of the siren, luring him to a certain death.   
  
"Never knew, I could feel like this. It's like I've never seen the sky before."  
  
Christian shook his head. No, he wasn't going to be called back by that lovely voice he so cherished.  
  
Apparently it didn't matter to Satine if he came or not, because her song went on.  
  
"Want to vanish inside your kiss. Everyday I'm loving you more and more."  
  
Christian shook his head again. He wasn't going back!  
  
"Listen to my heart, can you hear it sings? Come back to me and forgive everything!"  
  
Satine stopped, and Christian stopped in his tracks.   
  
"Season's may change," she sang. "winter to spring. I love you… till the end of time."  
  
Christian pouted. That wasn't fair.  
  
Damn it all, she was good. Every muscle in his body was urging him to turn. To run back to Satine.  
  
He resigned. No use going against fate, now was there?  
  
"Come what may . . ."  
  
The entire audience turned to see him. Satine smiled at him.  
  
"Come what may. Come what may! Come what may. I will love you!"  
  
Satine stepped down, moving forwards, towards him. "I will love you!" Satine joined in eagerly.  
  
"Until my dying . . ."  
  
". . . Dying . . ."  
  
They reached their hands out, and suddenly they were back together, singing in perfect harmony. "Day! Come what may!"  
  
"Come what may!" Christian said.  
  
"Come what may." Satine echoed.  
  
"I will love you, until my dying day."  
  
Time was momentarily as the two looked at one another.  
  
Yes, Christian thought. Everything in the world was perfect. And no one would ever take Satine away from him again.  



End file.
